


By the Light of the Silvery Moon

by tifaching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dark, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Male Slash, Mindfuck, Non Consensual, Rape, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finally gets his dream picnic with Lisa.  It doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Light of the Silvery Moon

The Impala’s headlights cut a path though the night as Dean pilots her down a twisting forest road. The trees are so close it’s like traversing a tunnel and he stays in the center of the track to avoid branches that seem to be reaching out to attack them from either side. Deep ruts make speed impossible and Dean grunts in annoyance over the time it’s taking to reach his destination and the beating his Baby’s suspension is taking along the way. The heater is on but it’s still cold in the car. Dean wraps his arm around Lisa, hoping to warm her but feels a chill envelope him instead.

“You sure about this, sweetheart?” he asks, peering into the dark beyond the headlights.

“I’m sure,” she murmurs, pressing closer. “Just a little further.”

Dean shakes his head but continues on, easing the Impala over dips and bumps. It’s not like there’s anywhere he could turn around anyway. Minutes later he stops where the road ends at a broad meadow, awash in the frosted light of the full moon. Lisa leans across to turn off the headlights, sighing in pleasure at the silvery sea of waving grass.

The air is brisk and a soft breeze mingles the scents of a night time meadow across their faces as they head into the field. Dean’s carrying a picnic basket and Lisa’s got an armful of quilts.

“Gonna get cold,” Dean says with a shiver. “Even with those blankets.”

“We’ll build a fire,” Lisa replies, glancing up at him.

For a moment Dean sees flames reflected in her eyes and then it’s just the moon shining deep within them. A faint undercurrent of something familiar and unpleasant stirs in the air and Dean stops short, his grip on Lisa’s hand bringing her to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” she asks softly.

“Nothing, probably,” Dean whispers back. “It just smells like something died out here.”

“I don’t smell anything.” Lisa’s teeth flash white in the shadow of her face. “But it’s the great outdoors, Dean. Things die.”

I hate camping, Dean thinks, though he’d never say it aloud. His daydreams of a picnic with Lisa are going to become reality tonight and no dead woodchuck is going to ruin it. “Which way now?” he asks, setting off in the direction of Lisa’s pointing finger.

A cloud drifts across the moon and shadows deepen around them. Dean reaches for the flashlight in the picnic basket, but Lisa forestalls him.

“Just wait,” she murmurs and in moments the sky is clear again.

The shelter Lisa leads him to has three walls, a roof and a packed dirt floor. Dean holds Lisa up again as he peers into the darkness, but she twists from his grasp and vanishes into the building.

“Damn it, Lise.” Dean digs in the basket for the light, but just as his hand closes around it a flare inside the shelter becomes an inferno of kindling in a metal fire pit. The shelter’s empty except for Lisa, grinning at Dean from behind flames that cast grotesque shadows of her on the rough stone walls.

Dean pulls the matches out of his pocket and holds them up, lifting an eyebrow. “Forget to tell me you were a Girl Scout?”

Lisa spreads a blanket on the floor near the fire and settles down on it. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve,” she says with a coy smile, patting the spot next to her. “Why don’t you join me and I’ll let you in on a few more.”

Dean sets the basket against the wall and drops down next to Lisa. Firelight slithers across her skin as she sheds her clothes and Dean stares, mesmerized. The flames in the pit rise higher, but if they’re giving off any heat, he doesn’t feel it any more than she seems to feel the cold. The smoke drifting through the shelter makes him lightheaded, but when he tries to sit up to get some fresh air, Lisa’s hand drops onto his chest like a cinder block.

“Lise,” he murmurs and her lips curl.

“Shhhh,” she says. “Let me make you more comfortable.”

Dean’s shivering under his layers, but Lisa’s hands are steady as she unzips his jacket, unbuttons his shirt. His skin pebbles where it’s exposed to the cold night air, and her touch doesn’t warm him. He wants to caress her body like she’s caressing his but the fog in his brain has infused his limbs, making them maddeningly uncooperative. Lisa slides his jeans down and he shudders as icy fingers grasp his cock, stroking it to fullness in spite of the cold.

“Lisa,” he tries again, head whirling from the smoke, “what’s happening?”

“You know,” she whispers, straddling his hips before lowering herself onto him with a harsh breath.

Smoke swirls between them and in his blurred vision Lisa’s body seems to change, growing longer and broader, planes and angles all wrong as it moves over him. Her panting gasps are low and guttural, muttering familiar filth that Dean’s mind shies away from. He bucks his hips, trying to throw her off, but she just grips him tighter. A few more twists of her pelvis and she groans, clenching around him. Dean’s climax is like icicles knifing from his body, and is immediately followed by thick, frigid spatter on his chest.

The smoke dissipates and Dean’s head clears. The hazy figure above him resolves into clarity, Dean’s soft cock still tightly encased within its flesh. The roof shimmers away, then the walls, fire and field until only a sliver of the moon remains, scabrous and red. Dean desperately scrabbles to escape until claws grip his throat, pinning him in place.

“Get off me,” he growls; horror fueling his struggle.

“Not done yet,” a cold breath whispers in his ear. Alastair gathers Dean into his arms and settles back to stare at the sky, the glow in his pale eyes outshining the blood tinged remnant of the moon.


End file.
